A Week's Worth of Life
by Murr
Summary: Hermione witnesses the third true prediction of Professor Trelawny...one that predicts her death in a week. With only a week to fufil a lifetime; she discovers more about herself, including the fact that she's in love with the wrong best friend.
1. Tea Leaves

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A Week's Worth of Life.

Disclaimer: I plea the 5th.

Author's Note: I'm traveling a different path this time. Normally I surround my self with stupid, senseless, humor----but its time for something dark; Surprisingly about Hermione. Flames and Reviews are both welcome because both serve equal amounts of inspiration----though different kinds.

Talk-back: Love the sinners, hate the sins man. 

_Hermione witnesses the third true prediction of Professor Trelawny------One that predicts the end of her life in a week. With only a week to fulfil a lifetime, Hermione discovers more about herself and people around her she took for granted. Including the fact that she is in love with the wrong best friend. _

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I think perhaps though that fate, both subject to natural laws and spiritual laws, is rather an agent used in the fulfillment of our destiny

*

*

Hermione sighed and stretched her hands high above her head; covering the noise of popping joints with a large yawn.

This was the third day in the row that she had risen before the sun. 

It was the strangest thing. She couldn't eat; she couldn't sleep; she was edgy all the time. It was just something she couldn't explain. 

Hermione sighed and stopped by a small window at the base of the North Tower. She had been wondering again; coming across this lovely window. Sure, it was small, but the proud sunbeams reflected wonderfully over the lake where the giant squid bathed. It was a peaceful place to clear one's mind in the morning.

The sixteen-year-old breathed contently; drinking in the sight of the golden ball of energy rising over the land she could rightfully call home. The castle, the magic, the whole world; would she just wake up some day to discover it a dream? 

Then it was a wonderful dream.

She was pulled roughly out of her mesmerized state by an annoyingly familiar voice. That misty voice that she had forgotten carelessly about until now. 

Professor Trelawny batted her magnified eyes at the surprise teen. 

"Good morning dear. Meditating now, are we? I predicted your going long ago; but your return? " The overrated women drawled out in her foggy tone. It seemed after her near departure last year in the trio's fifth year the women had surely got back on her feet. That is, if she was ever on the ground. 

Hermione repressed an uncharacteristic scowl. 

__

Things sure are different now.

It was true. Everything had changed; and Hermione couldn't decide if it was for the better or for the worse.

Ron, her secret (or not so secret) crush still hadn't matured emotionally; so that hadn't changed. He had stopped growing at his tall six three even, tanning away his freckles over the summer. He had starting working out, taking his Keeper duties far too seriously in Hermione's opinion. She rarely saw him, since he hadn't done so well on the owls and had no classes with her. It was only at meals and in the Common Room where they could be together.

Then there was Harry, her other best friend. He had reached his long awaited growth spurt and now stood at a shocking six foot. He was back on the Quidditch team, the captain and seeker. He aced all his owls; putting him in all of Hermione's classes.

Somehow, Tonks had managed to convince him to buy some wizard contacts, making his green eyes stand out even more. But there was something different about Harry's eyes this year; they had lost their mischievous twinkle and he had become more reserved to everyone since his godfather's death.

Then there were the changes in herself. Hermione had grown taller, to five six, still thin as always, but taller. She had straightened her hair, making it coming down in soft ringlets. Her blue eyes still had a love for reading and studying, but she had never lost her light heart. 

She would have forgot the woman besides her to her own wonder world if she hadn't lain a hand on her shoulder.

"Dear, let's let bygones be bygones. We've both matured over the summer obviously," her eyes looked sad as she scanned them over Hermione, " Come have a cup of tea with me in the tower. " Her misty voice was a soothing as the Chamomile tea she was offering.

Hermione didn't say yes, but she didn't say no. She just followed the bat-like Ex-Professor up the winding tower steps. It would be at least three hours until her first lesson, Charms, started. An hour until breakfast. 

*

Hermione's steady gaze took in the sights of the Professor's room with a quirked eyebrow. Everything was the same; even after three years. 

It was still dark and with small tables crowded with chairs. Yet still, when you walked into it you got the feeling that you were being suffocated by the intoxicating perfumes. She also noted bemusedly, that crystal balls were set up at every table.

__

Why would she need them if she's out of a job? You would think with no work all summer these things would be cleaned up.

Professor Trelawny noticed her ex student looking at the crystal balls with a mix of baffle and amusement. 

"I'm keeping them up so I'm ready when Professor Dumbledore hires me back. Yes, any day now. I see it in my visions. " The seer shrugged nonchalantly; setting down a tea tray with two cups with a pretty Indian design and a couple pumpkin pastries at a table already occupied with one of crystal balls.

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Oh Merlin. She's gone loony.

Hermione wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It was now obvious to her that Professor Trelawny _wasn't _as sane as she had previously perceived. The poor woman was still at loss over her job and had convinced herself that she was getting it back. 

__

'No matter, ' Hermione sighed. She would just have to tell this fragile soul as it is and break her again before she rebuilt herself completely the wrong way.

Her mind laughed bitterly, '_No wonder Trelawny wanted to have tea with you---YOU----SHE'S OFF HER ROCKER!!!!'_

*

The two women had been sitting and sipping their tea in a somewhat awkward silence that Hermione realized almost belatedly, as she watched in slow motion as Professor Trelawny began to open her small mouth; she should break.

"Professor Trelawny?" Hermione rushed. The woman snapped her mouth shut like a mousetrap. It probably had been a while since she had been called 'Professor'.

"Yes?" Her eyelashes fluttered expectantly behind thick lenses; as if she wasn't even there. As if Hermione had interrupted something. It was strange because seconds earlier she looked as if she was going to say something.

Much to Hermione's bewilderment, she found herself blabbering; a habbit she tried to rid of since her first day ever when she met Harry and Ron. " You don't _really _think Professor Dumbledore will give you your position back, _DO YOU? _"

Though at first taken aback, her ex-professor smiled. A very smug and to Hermione's displeasure, not a very sane smile. She was taking this quite well…too well.

"Give me your teacup, Hermione." She said calmly, her hand outstretched as if awaiting a handshake. Hermione pulled her empty teacup back.

Yet another easy smile…"Don't be bashful child. Give me the cup!" Hermione sighed and handed it over. 

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What harm can it do? I can just pretend (or even not pretend) to be offended; storm out, and prove to her that's she's a phony, so she can move on and be some muggle phoneline psychic far away from here. Like America.

Professor Trelawny 'hmmmm'ed and 'mmmm…'ed nonstop for five minutes as she prodded with her long fingers and made mental notes about the positions and possible meanings of Hermione's tea leaves.

With a blood curdling scream, (and in Hermione's opinion a very fake, very well rehearsed scream) the Professor hurled the cup into the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces of a once expensive, gorgeous, cup. 

Hermione stared, startled at the area of impact and slowly turned her head and faced Trelawny.

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I change my mind. She's a bonkers, Azkaban worthy, nutcase! And here I am, enjoying, or let me rephrase that, not enjoying, tea with this fraud! 

"The grim…I saw the grim…but not the grim…but…" She was very white; her eyes wide beyond belief, and her hand shaking so violently that the table she clamped them to, shook as well. 

__

That does it.

Hermione silently pushed her chair back and started for the ladder. Hand on the trap door; an eerily quiet voice called her back.

"Please child…don't go…if not for my sake; but for yours. I don't know if I could live with myself if I let you walk away this very instant without heeding my warning…the future's warning... Just stay…for once not for me, not for me…sit. It won't be long…"

Never in her short lifetime had Hermione seen anyone look so utterly pathetic. Grudgingly and mildly reluctant, the infuriated girl took her seat across from the loon once again. She waited, tapping her toe in annoyance as if she had a place to be.

The ex-Professor had calmed herself somewhat; though she was unusually pallid still, taking a standard position in front of the crystal ball.

If Hermione had been in a joking mood at the moment, she would have commented on how the woman seemed to be having an introspective argument with herself; or, laughed about an assumedly heated mental battle with the ridiculous object she so perfectly loomed over professionally and dramatically.

Then some odd and life changing event happened; turning the brunettes life upside down and sideways; while scrambling it like eggs and buttering it out for her like a paved path of toast. 

Professor Trelawny fainted; or so it seemed at the moment.

Then, seconds later, her head snapped up and her eyes were rolling about her head like white, large, marbles. Her voice changed too; from misty and smug to harsh and distant. 

It was one of those moments when you are truly frightened; and if you had time, your life would flash before your eyes, and all you can think about is your wrongs, your rights…

Hermione was frightened. She catapulted herself backwards; tipping over her chair and ending up defenselessly sprawled upon the ground; groping for her wand with a hand that refused to move. She desperately wanted to scold herself for taking this stupid branch of magic seriously; but something told her this was nothing to scoff at. She also wanted to blush at her overreaction; but instead of reddening, she blanched. 

She just wanted out of the room now. 

__

Is she having a seizure, or even worse, is she going to attack me? Does she work for Voldemort!? Is this a trap!? WHAT'S GOING ON?!

She didn't have to wait long; her spine tingled as she watched Trelawny from the ground; swaying her head as her eyes rolled madly; as if she were on drugs or enjoying a particular song. 

Then the rough savage voice broke through the air; taking Hermione's breath with it.

__

" The day that the sun rises as blood is the day of your fall. Discover everything about yourself, or discover nothing at all.

In a week as of tomorrow your life will slip out your hands. You will no longer be among the living. You won't live to see the full red sun. The first day will be a warning of what is to come. It is your fate, it is your destiny, and it is final. " 

The whole chilling experience rose to a crescendo. 

__

I don't believe it! I don't believe it! I don't believe it!

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands; open in a silent scream. She did believe it.

She was just in denial.

__

Die? Is she crazy. Yes, she's crazy. It's a stroke. Her mental state isn't normal, hell, she wasn't normal to begin with. I don't believe it. I won't believe it. She's a fraud, she's always has been always will be. But it felt so real…

Professor Trelawny blinked and analyzed everything; Hermione, the tea cup remains, the over turned chair, Hermione's horrified expression; glassy eyes filling with unshed tears.

"What's going on? Why are you in my classroom?" The angry Professor who didn't remember a thing of the past hour, more less her prediction, demanded. 

When the girl said nothing, she went into a somewhat controlled rage.

"Did you do this?!" she gestured towards the shards of glass and chairs, "Is this some sort of _JOKE?_ Because I find it very vulgar indeed." She tsked, not expecting the outcome of her words upon the poor girl.

Hermione somehow managed to find her voice as well as her feet.

"HORROR SHIT!!! THIS IS VULGAR!! YOU AND THIS…" she waved her arms wildly as she kicked open the trap door, "ALL OF THIS!!! THIS IS A VERY SICK JOKE INDEED; NOT ONE WOULD EXPECT FROM AN **_EX-_**PROFESSOR!!!" then she was gone; racing down the halls with adrenaline as the motivation as well as fear and shame. She ran all the way to Gryffindor Tower; nearly killing Snape around a corner.

* 

"How childish!" The 'ex-professor' had to admit that the last remark rather stung. Even if it was from a snobby **ex-**student.

She knelt down near the ruined remnants of her favorite china. She preferred not to use magic early in the morning.

__

What had been going on?

She stopped her hand before picking up the three large pieces that were left of her cup and surveyed the room:

The corner crystal ball had been put to recent use; unusual. A platter of cakes and two tea cups (one now,) had been set up; unlikely but still…and on the floor near the cup…were tea leaves…well tea had been served to…Granger and herself? Preposterous. 

__

Wait.

She peered closer at the now dry tea leaves that had survived the crash on the floor.

She offered them a sardonic smile.

__

How ironic, even after the cup shattered that they fall perfectly into the shape of a Grim?

*

A/N: I know Hermione was a little OCC with the swearing, but it was called for. I hope you enjoy the future chapters. This is like a prologue. Hopefully it's not too lame for you? Don't kill me…yet.

*Ja and Java Love 

~~Murr


	2. Give Me a Sign When I Ask for One

Disclaimer: Dare I say that the plot is mine?

Author's Note: I'm truly sorry for the delay. I just needed to get some things done on my other stories and had a fuzzy writing void for this story. Don't worry, from now on I'll try to update at least every two weeks or sooner. Thanks for the great reviews---I got nine. Way more than what I expected! Yay!

Talk-Back: Duct tape makes the world go 'round.

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Those who do not plan for the future have to live through it anyway

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A hazed and traumatized Hermione trudged her way through students that swarmed the Great Hall, making her way towards the Gryffindor Table with a little more shoving than necessary. 

Harry, who was up early, was devouring his toast and reading the Daily Prophet when the disgruntled girl slammed down on a chair with a little more gusto than evoked for in the early hours of the morning.

"Good morning, Hermione. Did you have a squabble with Ron already?" His brilliant green eyes looked up for a mere second, and Hermione disliked his ambiguous gaze under the circumstances. She was in _no _joking mood. And **_what _**about Ron!? Where did he get that supercilious idea? Argh…

"No, we did not." She bit back tersely, though not to Harry's surprise. Hermione tended to be…er, rather irascible in the mornings; With homework and Ron, and grades and Ron, and Voldemort and Ron. Yeah, with Ron.

Harry swallowed a large mouthful of orange juice and stared at her, silently from across the table. It was unnerving for Hermione, who tried to look anywhere but at him. Did he even know that he was looking at her? Does he have any idea how…scrutinizing he looks? Should I…tell him what happened?

It was that thought that brought Hermione back to present, crashing . That, and the fact that Ron had just sat down next to Harry, with laudable tries to catch her attention in the most ridiculous ways. But she was already thinking; lost in the labyrinthine world of her mind.

'_It was just a silly dream, Hermione._' She assured herself mentally, forking some eggs onto her breakfast plate, _'the result of prior late nights---you finally went to bed early and slept until a reasonable hour. Nothing to antagonize yourself over, a dream, you see._' 

*

It tweaked her, and the thought was always there. All throughout the day, Hermione couldn't shake off the fact---no the surmise, that it _wasn't _some dream or hallucination. 

* Flashback *

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" The day that the sun rises as blood is the day of your fall. Discover everything about yourself, or discover nothing at all.

In a week as of tomorrow your life will slip out your hands. You will no longer be among the living. You won't live to see the full red sun. The first day will be a warning of what is to come. It is your fate, it is your destiny, and it is final. "

* End of Flashback *

"A week, huh?" Hermione breathed out, her breath tickling her hair and lifting a few errant strands up. She replayed the haunting words and fuzzy images over again in her mind for the thousandth time that hour. This could not be healthy.

"Hey…'Mione? " As soft voice provoked her back to reality. A soft, gentle voice.

"Ron?" She gasped quietly, then, her hands flew to her mouth and a blush formed. It wasn't her freckled crush; it was Harry. And she was daydreaming in Potions---which Ron did not even have, mind you; and they were…what were they supposed to be doing?

"I'm—I---sorry. Harry, what was the Professor talking about?" She whispered in a rush over the pewter cauldron that separated them. Needless to say, she was rather surprised at what was across from her; a cold gaze, through darkening green eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but there was still some bitterness lingering in his voice.

"Yeah. Hi. I'm Harry." He noisily passed her a scrap of piece of parchment he had scrawled notes about truth drought to the third level. Too noisely.

"Potter. Stop helping Miss Granger. If she cares to daydream about Weasley in my class, than she may fail. Granger, one would expect better from a Prefect in an advanced class," Snape, who had suddenly appeared behind the two like the bat he was, snarled into a sardonic smile, "15 points from Gryffindor. Back to work, or to your Head House. I won't have you waste my time." The potions master sneered, though you could detect a somewhat gleeful element in his tone. Serves Granger right for flattening him in the hall.

*

Hermione turned and strode through the twisted halls of Hogwarts third floor, having not the slightest idea where she was going; she only knew where she wanted to end up.

Pressing a slim hand to her forehead, almost as if willing it to be feverish, she made a quick right at the carpet scorch and flung open the Pelican painting; it beat it's wings angrily and she ignored it, already streaming down a dimly lit passage.

The lucid dream that was not so distant reality, Harry's evasive stare; hell, even Ron was acting weird. More clumsy, less chatty. She needed peace, taciturn, someplace where she could gain introspective on her exacting life; love, fate, anything. She was so confused.

That's why she needed to go to the clear room, as she called it. What else should you call a room that was made and adorned with beautiful, crystal clear, sturdy glass? Hermione, if she had to guess, would say that once upon a time, it housed a special plant. 

The tiny room in the far left wing of the deserted third floor, had a comprehensive scope of the back gardens, and the sunlight filtered in through the intangible glass. Perhaps even diamond; it was very solid and strong.

As she rushed with impatience that the clever witch believed she never possessed within her, it was then that a sense of change washed over her, and she slowed her jog to an unsteady walk.

Up ahead, where the end of the corridor normally got brighter due to the wistful beams of light shooting through the clear material and reflecting off the walls, there was darkness. Not peremptory darkness, like the kind that swallows you whole, but a dimness. Hermione stopped her walk completely.

For what seemed like hours, she stood there; pointblank. Maybe it was because she was having one of those 'off days,' or perhaps it was the increasing sense of paranoia due to factious mysteries that consumed the castle all the time, Voldemort or not.

"Don't be a prat, Hermione." She scolded herself quietly, inching foreword. It was now that she could see that there was light up ahead. Not sunlight…er, torchlight?

Extremely frustrated with her sudden shyness, Hermione willed her stubborn feet to just walk, but they remained adamant.

__

'Just walk! Just walk! A couple steps foreword, tight turn and you're there. You're right there. In your secret sanctuary. '

Willing, though feelings remarkably stupid at the same time, she brought forth all her intrepid feelings, and her useful habbit at scoffing at the irrational and walked four big steps foreword and turned. Then all she could do was stare.

No wonder the sunlight couldn't filter through; the dark, blood red, paint, that was still running down the small closet sized once clear room made it nearly opaque. Awed, that's all she could be. Even her mind could only sputter in bewilderment.

'_Who? W—w-what is going on? But---! No one's barely ever on the third floor, let alone this room! I—I-I'_

She squelched to the center of the room, the disturbingly dark paint engulfing her shoes to reciprocate the chaos of her footprints. She was most certain it was paint; though it strongly resembled blood in the most repugnant ways. 

It was then, that the young witch looked up, and her throat clenched as well as her heart; a futile, black, knot, was eating away her stomach. From her position she could most defiantly make it out. The unmistakable and inexplicable image of an oozing red sun, painted recently. It's rays flowing down the walls, and trickling off to the floor. Covering it, devouring it. The rising red sun.

__

'The first day will be a warning of what is to come… You won't live to see the full red sun…'

*

A/N: AAIIIEEEE! Don't stone me! Cliffie I know, and a lame one at that. Sheesh, I'm so bad at this, I should just quit and put all of us out of misery. If you have any questions, comments, flames, put it in your review. Please do, review!

*Ja and Java Love*

~Murr


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